Once Upon a Changeling

by V. J. Chambers

  Seeing as asking Kara hadn’t worked, I decided I’d go see Cindi anyway. It couldn’t hurt to ask her, at any rate. It wasn’t likely she’d open up to me, but I thought it was even less likely that she’d open up to Puck, so that’s what I told her when she volunteered to go talk to Cindi instead. No, it was definitely better if I went. It was the second time in the span of a week that I’d been to see Cindi, and the same nurse from before was really excited to see me there. She babbled on and on about my commitment to Cindi and how sweet I was. If only she knew that the last time that I was there, I’d called Cindi a cunt, she’d probably be singing a different tune.

  Actually, that hadn’t been very nice of me. I’d been angry. It was weird. Now that I knew that Cindi hadn’t been crazy to think the baby was a changeling, I didn’t know how I was going to behave around her. Was she really crazy? Did she belong here? Should I be doing something to try to get her out of here? I now knew that the baby really was a changeling, but I wasn’t about to tell anybody what I thought. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have tried to strangle the baby—changeling or no. I wondered why the real baby hadn’t reverted when she’d tried violence against the changeling. In some of the legends, that worked.

  There were so many things I wanted to ask Cindi. Why hadn’t she told me she was pregnant? Why hadn’t she tried to cover her tracks, sleep with me and blame the baby on me? Why had she come back out at the dance and acted as though everything was normal after she’d delivered a baby in the girls’ bathroom? Maybe she was really crazy.

  I’d tried to ask Cindi these questions and questions like these before, but she’d never answered them. She’d ignore them. She’d change the subject. She wouldn’t be lucid enough to speak. It was always something. I didn’t know if I’d have better luck today. I didn’t even know if I should push my luck. Maybe all I should focus on was the identity of the baby’s father.

  While I was contemplating all of this, the nurse just kept chattering on about what a great guy I was and how sweet young love was and how wonderful it was that there was still hope and decency in the world. And I thought that if she didn’t stop I might have to strangle her. She was making me feel very guilty and very nervous.

  Finally, she just took me down the hall to Cindi’s room and opened the door. Cindi was lying on her bed, facing the wall. I went into the room and sat down, staring at her back. “Hi Cindi,” I said.

  She didn’t move.

  Great. I had to come on a day when she was completely out of it. Maybe I should just get out of here now. Maybe this was going to be one giant waste of time.

  I waited for a few seconds. I’d try to talk to her once more, and if she didn’t respond, then I’d go. “Listen,” I said finally. “I’m sorry I called you names last time. That wasn’t fair of me. You were right, you know. The baby is a changeling.”

  She rolled over then. “Told you so,” she said, but her eyes were blank and her speech was slurred. They had her pretty drugged.

  “Yeah,” I said. “You were right. I was wrong. I owe you an apology.”

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  “Cindi, I want to ask you something. It’s important if we want to get the real baby back—your baby. See, I couldn’t do it, because I’m not the baby’s father. Only the baby’s real parent can get him back. So I need you to tell me who the real father is.”

  Cindi sat up. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  I thought I was being pretty clear, but she was pretty drugged, so I repeated myself.

  Cindi shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she said slowly.

  I tried again. I reworded it a little. Same gist, different words.

  Cindi still didn’t get it.

  When it came to Cindi, I apparently had a pretty quick temper, because I started to get kind of frustrated with her at that point. “Come on, Cindi,” I said. “Who were sleeping with besides me? Who did you cheat on me with?”

  Cindi shook her head violently. “Not a cheater,” she said. “I’m not a cheater.”

  “You sure as hell are. That’s not my kid. It’s somebody’s.”

  “No, no. I’m a nice girl. Everybody thinks I’m really nice. I wouldn’t do that. I didn’t do that. I didn’t cheat on you.”

  “Cindi, yes you did.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t know I was pregnant. Sometimes, when I’m training really hard for volleyball, I don’t even have periods. I get too skinny. And so I didn’t know. I really didn’t know. I couldn’t figure out why I was getting so fat. And then when I saw the baby, I thought—all those diet pills I was taking—what did they do to him? But then the faeries came.”

  “Cindi, who is the father of the baby?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “You’re the only one who does know,” I said.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who were you sleeping with?”

  “Muscles,” she said and started to giggle. “Lots of muscles.”

  “He had muscles?” I asked.

  “No, silly,” she said. “I’m a nice girl. I’m not a cheater.”

  “Cindi, please.”

  “I didn’t know that I was pregnant, Russ. I didn’t know. You believe me, right? I didn’t know. I was scared, Russ. The faeries came, and I was scared. You used to be so nice to me.”

  I kept trying, but she wouldn’t crack. I wasn’t sure if it was her meds, or if she really was a little nuts. Maybe it was some of both. Eventually, I gave up and left.

  She was so pitiful. And the memories that I had of the way she used to be didn’t help either. I just felt so conflicted. Half of me wanted to save her or protect her or do something to make her better and half of me just wanted her to suffer. I didn’t think either half was particularly healthy. Cindi had been an enormous part of my life, but she wasn’t going to take up that enormous space anymore. I needed to make room for other things. And I needed to find out who the father of her baby was if I wanted to get my life back.

  Her name was Ms. Anderson, and she was the school counselor. She was very short, no taller than five feet, and she was very round. Her body was round. Her face was round. She wore glasses with round rims. She had brown hair, and it was cut short so it framed her round face. I didn’t want to talk to her, but at least she was getting me out of history class.

  “Mr. Regis is concerned about you,” said Ms. Anderson.

  “Is he,” I said. I didn’t make it a question, because I didn’t want to encourage her to speak anymore.

  “I believe he’s spoken to you about it,” she said. “Mr. Regis thought that perhaps someone like me, who has been trained in talking with troubled teens, might be able to get through to you better than he was.”

  Oh. So I was a troubled teen that someone needed to get through to, huh? “Did he,” I said.

  “Why aren’t you going to college, Russ?” she asked me.

  Why wasn’t I? Now that I knew the baby was a changeling, I felt less obligated to throw away my life out of responsibility for a child. I shrugged. “I don’t know.” Adults of all kinds hate it when kids answer that they don’t know. It makes them crazy, and as such it is one of the most powerful weapons I had in my arsenal.

  Sure enough, Ms. Anderson made a noise of disapproval. “Now, honestly, Russ, what kind of an answer is that? You must have some reason for your decision.”

  I shrugged.

  “Mr. Regis indicated to me it had something to do with your son.”

  Ugh. I hated the way that sounded. My son. I didn’t have a son. “I have to take care of the kid, it’s true,” I said. “And my parents won’t help me with that once I’ve graduated from high school, because they think I need to learn responsibility. So I’ll have to get a job, because I’ll have to feed and clothe him. I won’t have time for college.” There. That sounded reasonable. Not even Ms. Anderson could argue with that bit of logic.

  “Have you considered looking into grants for school or going part time?” she ask
ed.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “And?”

  “And I don’t think that I’ll have time to work and go to school and take care of the kid.”

  “Why do you call him the kid? Doesn’t he have a name?”

  “Sure he’s got a name. I just call him the kid.”

  “Do you love your son?” she asked me.

  “Uh … .” What kind of question was that? I debated for about two seconds and decided that I needed to give Ms. Anderson the answer she wanted to this question. The truth was too convoluted anyway. If I did have a son, I was sure that I would love him. “Of course I love him,” I said. “I call him the kid as a term of endearment. It’s like a nickname.”

  “I see,” said Ms. Anderson, but she didn’t sound convinced. She was quiet for a few seconds, as if she expected me to just start talking of my own accord. The lady was crazy if she thought that. I wasn’t about to start gabbing to her. She’d dragged me in here. She was the one asking the questions. If she didn’t say anything, I sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything either.

  “It seems to me,” said Ms. Anderson, “that as a parent, you would want the absolute best for your son. Don’t you think you’d be able to provide for him better with a college degree?”

  “Sure,” I said. “And maybe when he’s older, I can go to college, but he’s too needy right now.”

  “You said your parents won’t help you once you graduate high school. What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean they won’t help me. I won’t be able to live there anymore. They won’t let the kid live there. And they won’t give me any money.”

  “Did your parents say this to you, Russ? In those words? Or are you just inferring this from other things they’ve said?”

  Was she calling me a liar? Did she think that I didn’t know what my own parents had told me? “That’s what they said,” I said sulkily.

  “They told you that they would kick you and your son out of their house after you graduated from high school?”

  When she put it like that … . “No, not exactly.” They said that I’d have to take full responsibility for the kid after high school. Which could only mean— “But that was the basic gist of it.”

  Ms. Anderson pursed her lips. “That just seems so unlike your parents,” she said.

  “They’re mad at me,” I said. “I disappointed them.”

  “I wonder if perhaps I had a talk with them or if Mr. Regis—”

  “No!” I said. “No, that’s not necessary. Everything’s fine.” The bell rang. “It’s my lunch period now,” I said to her. “You can’t take away my lunch, can you?”

  Puck and I were eating lunch together pretty much every day now, and Marcos had taken to coming to school for lunch right after his shift at work. So the three of us sat together. Puck and I ate. Marcos usually made disparaging comments about the food. Today for lunch, the cafeteria was serving cheeseburgers, French fries, and green beans. The cheeseburger was a sort of gray color. I was eating it anyway.

  Since I hadn’t gotten anything from Cindi when I’d gone to see her earlier, we were right back to square one. Honestly, we weren’t even at square one, because we still weren’t sure whether or not redoing the reveal with the baby’s real parent would work. So, when Puck nagged me to go to the vampire bar that night, my resistance was relatively easy to wear down. I agreed that I’d go.

  Puck was excited. We made plans to meet after I got out of work that evening, which would be around nine. Puck expressed some concern about going to the bar in my work clothes. She thought I’d look a little out of place. I assured her that I’d be as unassuming as possible in jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Fine,” she said. “Just make it a black T-shirt.”

  I was more concerned about getting into the bar. We were both underage, and I’d noticed, that they carded at the door. Puck said that wouldn’t be a problem. When I asked why, she told me to trust her. So, my fate sealed, I promised her I would. I was not at all excited at the prospect of going to this place. Not at all. We didn’t even know who we would be looking for once we got inside. And somehow, I just didn’t think that these wannabe vampire faeries were going to offer us information just because we asked for it. I thought they’d probably want a little more than that. So I was nervous.”That meat is gray looking,” said Marcos.

  I took an enormous bite. “Mmmm,” I said. “Yummy.”

  Puck told Marcos that we were going to the vampire bar that night and invited him to come along. Marcos couldn’t because he had to work, and he was disappointed. He even asked us to go a different night so that he could come with us. I was all for it. After all, Marcos was one of the auto guys, so he’s tough. He could be scary. I, on the other hand, was the absolute opposite of scary. But with our schedules, we couldn’t find a date when we could all three go to the bar for another week. Puck said we shouldn’t wait that long. After all, the Korrigan Queen was eventually going to perform her sacrifice, and we had to get the baby back before that happened. We all agreed that she was right, so I was unfortunately still going to the vampire bar that evening.

  As I was coming to terms with the idea of going all over again, Mila George came over to our table.

  First of all, it was weird for anyone to come over to our table. Most people stayed as clear of me as they could. But it was especially weird for Mila to come over, because she was one of the really popular chicks. One of Cindi’s old friends. She didn’t associate with just anyone.

  “Can I sit down?” she asked us.

  We were all too stunned to answer.

  Finally, Puck said, “Okay. Sit down.”

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  Mila rolled her eyes. “Rude much?” she said.

  Which, in my humble opinion, doesn’t even make any sense. “All the time,” I retorted.

  “Seriously,” said Marcos. “Is there something we can do for you?”

  “I don’t know,” said Mila. “I was just coming over here, because I wanted to let you know something, but if you guys are going to be rude to me, I won’t bother.”

  She didn’t even move to get up, though, so I didn’t know how much I really believed her.

  “We’re sorry,” said Marcos.

  “You should be,” said Mila. “You’re totally rude, and I’m trying to help you.”

  “Help us with what?” asked Puck.

  “I was at the table the other day when you guys came over to talk to Kara about Cindi. I don’t think Kara was being totally honest with you.”

  “Duh,” I said.

  Mila glared at me. “Not because she’s a liar or anything, but because she’s trying to protect Cindi. She’s a good friend to her, and she doesn’t want people saying nasty things about Cindi. That’s all.”

  Yeah. Kara was a real class act, all right.

  “So, you know who Cindi was sleeping with?” I asked. “Cindi told you?”

  “She didn’t tell me,” said Mila. “She never told anybody, I don’t think, except maybe Kara. She was good at keeping secrets.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I have firsthand experience with that.”

  Mila shot me a withering look. “Don’t be a smart ass.”

  “Go on,” said Marcos. “Don’t mind him. He’s understandably bitter about the whole thing.”

  Mila looked at me as if I were even grosser than the cheeseburgers we were all eating. I didn’t care what she thought. I’d never liked Mila, anyway. Even when Cindi and I were dating, she’d struck me as the kind of girl who would stab you in the back if you gave her a chance. Now, the fact that she was confessing Cindi’s secrets should have made me grateful to her, but instead, it made me angry with her. It almost proved my point. Mila was a bitch.

  “So if she didn’t tell you, how do you know who she was sleeping with?” I asked.

  “I saw them kissing once at a party,” she said. “They were sneaking around outside behind the house. I’d come outside for a breath of
fresh air.”

  I swallowed. At a party? “Was I at this party?” I asked.

  Marcos said, “Russ, is that important?” at the same time as Mila said, “I think so.”

  “Never mind,” I growled. “Who was it?”

  “Dave Lawrence,” she said.

  Dave Lawrence?! Jesus Christ, if Cindi was going to cheat, she cheated, didn’t she? Dave Lawrence was the quarterback of the football team. He was also a first class jerk. Always had been, always would be. I couldn’t believe it. At the very least, I thought Cindi would have better taste.

  I was angry. I didn’t mean to be angry, but I was, and I got up from the table and started across the cafeteria to the table where I knew the football team ate. I could hear Marcos and Puck calling after me, but I ignored them. It didn’t take me long to get across the cafeteria. I was walking with purpose. Dave saw me approach. I locked eyes with him. A few strides away, I couldn’t help myself. I pointed at him. “You were sleeping with Cindi,” I said. “Last year. It was you.”

  Dave laughed. “No, I wasn’t.”

  Bastard. Of course, he’d deny it. I started around the table, not thinking, just wanting to hurt him somehow, but Marcos was there. It was like he’d just appeared behind me. He grabbed me from behind—bear hugged me, trapping my arms. “Russ, stop,” he whispered in my ear. “Stop.”

  I struggled for a second; then I went slack. He let me go. I stared at Dave. He grinned back. “Sorry your girlfriend was such a slut, man, but I never got a piece of that.”

  I started to speak, but Marcos got there first.

  “Thanks for your time, Dave,” said Marcos. He dragged me away. “Not here, Russ,” he said. “Not now.”

  Puck and Marcos pointed out to me that Mila had only seen them kissing, not having sex. It didn’t mean that Dave was actually the guy. They also pointed out that Mila might be lying, or that she might simply have been mistaken. Maybe it hadn’t been Cindi with Dave or maybe it hadn’t been Dave with Cindi. In either case, we needed more information before we jumped to any conclusions. And finally, they were both pissed at me for messing everything up.